


To Hell And Back

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Multi, Mystery, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t rise from the dead without making a few enemies. When a mysterious figure from Maria’s past arrives in San Angel, old tensions escalate and frightening secrets are brought to light. The Sanchezes must keep together and choose their allies wisely if they hope to save their souls - and defeat a monster that is ruthless, close and very human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It would be an understatement to say that Manolo couldn't quite believe what he was hearing - but then again, his daughter had always been full of surprises. "She _what?"_

"She shoved Elena Gonzalez to the ground and nearly broke her nose!" General Posada shrieked, his face starting to turn red. "I saw it all from across the square. She might have torn the poor girl's braid off if I hadn't stepped in."

Five minutes earlier seemed like years ago. All had been right with the world, the spring Saturday afternoon had been nearing its end, and Maria and Manolo had just been sitting down with a book when the front door slammed. Then the general was screaming up the stairs at them, demanding that they come and see what good their way of handling children did, as he put it. When they hurried down to the parlor, they found him dragging a bruised, dirt-covered Ofelia by her ear. And that was just the beginning.

The nine-year-old had not said a word, but simply sat motionless on the sofa as her grandfather vividly described every punch and scratch he had witnessed. She purposely avoided her parents' gaze, staring down at her scuffed knuckles and muddy shoes and dress. Her shoulders were hunched, and she seemed to shrink with every word uttered against her.

"Well?" General Posada snapped, turning to her. "What do you have to say for yourself, girl?"

Ofelia flinched but didn't look up. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, half-hearted and under her breath.

 _"Hmph._ Just like your mother."

"Thank you for bringing her home, Papa," Maria said. "We'll take it from here."

"It's not too late to send her abroad, you know. Much less trouble than straightening her our yourselves. I can make all the arrangements - "

"You've done enough, _señor,"_ Manolo snapped. "That will be all."

His father-in-law glowered at him before scuttling out the door. "If you ask me," they heard him say, "the Gonzalez girl has a point."

Manolo held his breath until the door slammed shut. "Maybe we can sort this out a little better now, _mija."_ Standing up from his chair, he sat down beside Ofelia and took one of her hands in his. "Not like you to start a fight," he said, examining her knuckles. "I wonder what did."

She didn't answer.

"We're not going to yell at you," he continued. "We just want to know what happened."

"…She tried to take my glasses again…"

There was something in the way her body had stiffened, the way she had hesitantly trailed off, which made Manolo press onwards. "But that's not all, is it?"

Ofelia's eyes glistened as she wrapped her arms around herself and sank against the back of the sofa.

Maria sighed. "I'll go find her mother. You clean up and then go to your - "

"She called us demons."

Her parents froze, staring at her with wide, uneasy eyes. "What?" Maria asked, the word spilling out with simmering anger.

"She called me and Papa demons."

Manolo could see his wife glancing toward the swords on the mantle and put up a hand before turning back to his daughter. "What exactly did she say, Ofelia?"

"She said you were a demon because you came from Hell. And I was one because you were one. And…"

"And?"

"…And someday someone would send us back there." She abruptly threw her arms around her father's torso and buried her face in his shirt. "She wouldn't take it back."

"I can take care of that part."

_"Maria."_

_"What?"_

"Not right now." Manolo hugged his daughter and tried to wipe away the tears brimming in her eyes. _"Ssshhh._ It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."

"No, it won't."

"Everyone knows there's nothing true about what she said, _mija._ There's nothing wrong with me, is there?"

"No, Papa."

"And there's nothing wrong with you."

She didn't have the heart to tell him he was wrong.

"Sometimes people are afraid of things that they don't understand," Manolo continued, stroking her hair. "They need some time to figure things out. They'll see someday. We're not going to let them hurt you."

"Please don't send me away."

He looked down at her. "And why would we do that?"

"What _abuelo_ said."

Manolo pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "You," he said with a smile, "are staying where you belong. Isn't that right, _mi amor?"_

Maria nodded. "I'll have to teach you how to throw a punch, though."

Manolo rolled his eyes. "Go clean up, Ofelia. I want you to stay in your room until dinner's ready. No reading tonight. Does that seem fair?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And you'll need to apologize to Elena tomorrow. I know," he added when she made a face at the idea, "but it's the best thing to do. Understand?"

"I think so." She hurried up the stairs, then poked her head down again. _"Gracias,_ Papa!"

He kept his smile up until she was gone, then slumped backwards. _"Ay…"_

"That girl learned it from her parents, you know."

"I've heard them once or twice."

Maria stood up and began to pace, clenching and unclenching her hands. "I thought we were done with this!"

"There's always going to be a few."

"And that makes it okay?"

"What am I supposed to do about it? They won't exactly listen to me, will they?"

She sank onto the sofa and rested her head in her hands. "They haven't talked about Ofelia before."

"They know who they'd have to get through to lay a finger on her. They wouldn't dare."

"And if they would?"

"Then they wouldn't get far. I'd see to that myself."

Maria flopped onto her back, resting her head in his lap. "They should see you two the way I do."

"They can't all be that lucky." He stroked her face. "It's only a few, Maria. They'll quiet down soon enough. We just need to be polite and keep an eye out."

"So I can't bring a sword when I go talk to Elena's parents?"

"I wouldn't."

"You're no fun."

"That's not what you said when we…" He was silenced by a playful punch to the shoulder.

* * *

_We can't move. It's so dark in here…so cold. Why did you do this to us? We're not what you think we are! Someone help us! Please, let us out! Let us_ _**die!** _

Ofelia bolted upright in a cold sweat, the faint voices still echoing in her head. Shaking her head as she lay back down. Just a dream.

 _Help! Help!_ There they were again, louder and more clear. They sounded as though they were coming from outside.

Jumping out of bed and hurrying to the window, Ofelia pushed it open. "Hello?"

The moonlit street was empty, except for a large, dark, horse-drawn object on wheels rolling up towards the churchyard. As it disappeared, the voices grew fainter. _Let us die…let us die…_


	2. Chapter 2

After ten years of work, the only people who could tell that something had happened to the church tower were those who knew of the battle. For the most part.

For the first few Sundays after that Day of the Dead, there were stares and whispers whenever Manolo entered the church. A few townsfolk were even daring enough to speak loud and close enough for him to hear: he had been singled out by the old gods, come face to face with them and still thought it proper to set foot in the Lord's domain? What did he believe, anyway?

"I believe He's up there somewhere," Manolo told them, and he meant it. "There's no reason to think that isn't true." It took time and patience: he had one, and he tried to find the other. The more he showed no ill will to the things said behind his back, the less often he heard them. Eventually his smiles and greetings were reciprocated with ones of their own: _Good morning, Mr. Sanchez! How are your girls doing?_ _My son won't stop talking about how excited he is for his first lesson with you._ Most days it seemed as though he had never even been gone.

Which was why the cloud of foreboding that hung over him on the morning after the talk with Ofelia was more worrisome than most.

It began when they were heading up the hill towards the church. His daughter was quiet as she walked, abnormally so: on most Sunday mornings her gaze drifted about her as she spoke of whatever book she was in the middle of, but that morning she stared at the ground and didn't say a word. Even when the Mondragons caught up to them, she had only a few remarks for Vicente and Gabriela.

As they entered the churchyard, Ofelia stopped. It was only for a moment, but when she resumed walking, her pace was a bit slower and she stayed a step closer to her father's side. It took only a glance around for Manolo to see why. In the shadow of the church, far enough out of sight for most people to ignore, was a large, black carriage. It vaguely resembled a train car of sorts: rectangular, windowless, made of deeply stained wood and dull metal. At one end of the strange compartment, a short flight of steps led up to a small door shut tight with an old iron padlock. Painted neatly on the wood, in a shade of red that seemed just a bit too close to blood, was a cross.

A shiver Manolo didn't understand abruptly ran down his spine, and he hurried onwards.

It only grew stronger once the service began, and he found that he could hardly keep himself still. A pair of invisible, unblinking eyes were trained on him, taking note of each small movement, or so it seemed. He began to look around the room, hoping whatever it was would let down its guard and reveal itself.

That was when he saw her.

She was sitting across the aisle from them, at the nearest end of the pew. Manolo hadn't seen her around town before - _I would have remembered._ Perhaps she had come from further north: her skin was light enough to pass. She looked to be about fifty, if she was even that old. The wrinkles on her face were clear, and her shiny black hair was streaked with gray. It was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, not a strand out of place. Her dress was simple and black, covering everything below her chin. Hanging around her neck was a small crucifix. She had a sharp, eagle-like and eyes to match. Eyes that suddenly darted to meet his.

Manolo's gaze dropped into his lap and didn't stray again. When the sermon ended, he was the first back on his feet. "Come along, _mija."_

They were halfway to the churchyard gate when he noticed that his wife was not with them. "Maria?" he called out, turning around.

She was standing by the door with her father - and with the strange woman. Maria had her by the hand and was talking to her with a large grin and an animation reserved only for the most passionate of topics.

"Papa?" Ofelia asked. "Who's that?"

"I don't know…"

"Ah, there he is!" General Posada said, spotting them and beckoning him back. "Manolo! Come here, there's someone we'd like you to meet!"

He tried to walk quickly, disguising his reluctance. "Who's this?"

Maria gave him a strange look. "I wrote to you about her, didn't I? From the convent?"

"I'm not sure."

The woman extended a hand to him. "Valeria Santillian," she said. "Mother Superior of the Convent of the Perpetual Flame of Purity. For a time." Her tone was clipped and restrained, her accent impossible to place.

He thought Maria had mentioned the name once or twice, but he couldn't remember when. "Manolo Sanchez," he said as he hesitantly took her hand and shook it. "You knew Maria?"

"You could say she took me in," Maria answered.

"Whipped my little girl into shape!" General Posada crowed.

Valeria gave him an icy stare. "I fear I failed to improve her as well as I would have like."

"Send her back when she's of marriageable age, those were the instructions," her father said. "I made that very clear when she arrived."

"Besides," Maria said as she stepped between them, "I told you I wanted to go home."

Valeria turned her nose up at this, but then nodded. "I still believe the cloth could use a lady of your character, my dear. But what's done is done. I suppose I should congratulate you, Señora Mondragon."

"Congratulate me for what?" a voice chirped behind her.

She whirled around, making Ixa flinch at the sudden movement. "Hello, by the way," the younger woman said.

Maria laughed. "Sanchez, actually."

Valeria stared at Manolo, her eyebrows raised. "This is your husband?"

Manolo waved at her. "I hope there isn't a problem with that."

Valeria's gaze traveled downwards, to the figure hiding behind his leg. "And the girl?"

Maria smiled. "Come say hello, Ofelia."

She approached the newcomer slowly, almost trembling. _"Hola…"_

Valeria looked at the three of them, her eyes darting back and forth almost imperceptibly. "I see."

_That's enough of that,_ Manolo thought. "So what brings to you to San Angel?"

"Studies," she answered. "I was told of several texts from the first missions kept in your church. My companions and I wish to examine them." She gestured to the carriage, where a small group of men and women dressed in black were unloading boxes. "We plan to stay a month, at the least."

"Maybe you could visit us sometime!" Maria said. "I'll make tea, and we can do some more catching up!"

Valeria nodded, a slight rise and fall of her head. "I would be grateful."

Ofelia shrank back against her father. "Papa," she whispered, "I want to go home."

"We'll leave you to your work, then," Manolo told Valeria as he forced a smile. "It was very nice meeting you."

She stared at him, her eyes glinting in the way they had when they first fell upon him. "I shall see you again quite soon."


	3. Chapter 3

After that morning, it was easy to think that Valeria had vanished just as quickly as she had arrived. Her carriage remained undisturbed and tucked out of sight. One occasionally saw her assistants roaming the streets, still cloaked in black despite the growing heat, but their mistress was nowhere to be seen or heard from. Maria said nothing more of her presence after that first day, and even Ofelia seemed to be slightly less on edge.

And so, like a fool, Manolo thought the whole affair could be safely forgotten.

* * *

He had been up in the studio looking for some misplaced sheet music all morning, while Maria had been out running errands. He had heard the front door open and close around midday, but his wife did not appear. When he went downstairs, he found the parlor empty.

"Maria?" he called out.

"I'm in the dining room!"

He followed her voice through the archway and stopped at the threshold of the room. "Have you seen the notes I made for that…" He trailed off, the words freezing in his throat as he realized exactly what he was looking at.

Maria and Valeria were sitting next to each other at the table, some partially filled teacups and small, empty plates in front of them. The older woman was still dressed in her long, dark dress with the crucifix hanging from her neck and looked just as dour as when Manolo had first seen her. She eyed him with a sharp, almost accusatory gaze as though wondering what he was doing in his own house.

"…the notes I made for that new piece?" he managed to finish.

Maria smiled at him, paying no heed to her visitor's behavior. "I think you stuck them in that Eliot book."

"Ah, _gracias."_ He started to back away, carefully keeping his eyes off Valeria.

"Are you okay?"

"I just didn't realize you were busy, that's all."

"Oh, we were just talking," Maria answered quickly. "I just ran into her at the market and she said she could spare an hour or two."

"I'll leave you to it, then - "

"Why don't you come sit with us?" she said, beckoning to him. "We've still got some tea left."

"I don't want to intrude."

"You won't," Valeria said. "I think you would find our discussion rather interesting."

He did to an extent, in spite of his nervousness. The two women talked for another half hour about their time at the convent: the numerous scrapes and school-wide uproars Maria had caused. Logically, his wife admitted, she should have been expelled at least twenty times in the first year alone. Valeria was the only nun who had seen anything in her worth paying attention to. The one who had taken charge of the lonely girl, allowed her letters from home to come through, presented her with books and lessons a lady's education would never include, offered her a patient ear during sleepless nights.

"People would call her my shadow during the last few years," the old woman said, almost smiling at the memory. "She hardly left my side when the influenza came. Most of the sisters wouldn't dare go near the sick girls. How many did we treat, my dear? Thirty?"

Maria's smile slowly faded, and she hung her head as she nodded. "Yes. Treated."

Manolo remembered now. The tear-soaked letters with handwriting too shaky to read, and the pictures suddenly absent of the yellow-haired, brown-eyed girl who had been at Maria's side since the beginning. He still couldn't imagine the pain even if he tried.

Maria forced herself to chuckle, as though trying to clear the air. "That was when you started saying I should take the vows," she said. "And just look at me now. Married with a girl. Traitorous."

Valeria set down her teacup. "How long have you been together, if I may ask?"

"Ten years last November," Manolo answered.

She raised her eyebrows. "Just after Maria returned."

They both smiled sheepishly. "It's a long story."

"And how old is the girl?"

"Ofelia's nine," said Maria.

"She came early on, then?"

"Surprised us like she always does."

Valeria made a sound in the back of her throat, something that spoke vaguely of intrigue and disapproval. "She's an odd child. It's all very odd. Unfortunate."

"Funny, I've never noticed," Manolo said, not as harshly as he had meant to. It was still enough to earn a look from Maria.

A knock on the front door pulled them all out of the moment. "Excuse me for a moment," Maria said, standing up. "I won't be long." She quickly left the dining room, leaving Manolo and Valeria alone.

Manolo stared down at the tablecloth as he lightly drummed his fingers on the surface. "There's nothing strange about our girl," he said quietly. "She's just shy sometimes. If you got to know her - "

"You said you were a Sanchez, did you not?" Valeria suddenly asked. "One of the old families from this region. Bullfighters by trade."

He stopped and stared at her, surprised and annoyed, but continued nevertheless. "My ancestors' trade, at least."

"I have heard much of them in my travels. And some of you."

"Nothing very interesting, I assume."

"Assumptions rarely prove useful." Valeria slowly removed the crucifix from her neck as she leaned closer to him. "Are you a religious man, _señor?"_

"What?"

"Do you follow the word of God? Fear the Devil and his forces?"

He blinked several times. "I…I like to think that I do."

She held out the crucifix. "I want you to touch this."

"Why should I?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"Only for a second."

Reaching out, Manolo tapped the cold metal with a finger and quickly withdrew. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Hold it."

"No."

_"Hold it."_

"Maria!" he shouted.

Valeria moved away from him and deftly put the crucifix back on as the younger woman hurried back into the room. "What's wrong?" Maria asked, looking between them.

Manolo began to speak, but Valeria was quicker. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

Maria glanced at her husband with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"…Yes." He stood up, not taking his eyes off Valeria. _"Lo siento."_

"Where are you going?" Maria asked as he started to walk away.

"I just remembered something I had to do."

Slipping out the door, he began to walk up the hill towards the church. Hopefully Father Domingo would be there. And have time to answer plenty of questions.


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Maria._

His fifth try, and this was still as far as he had gotten. Manolo stared intently at the piece of paper before him, not quite above hoping that the words he needed would somehow suddenly appear. He let out a deep, tired breath as tapped his pencil on the desk, and his foot absentmindedly kicked at one of the crumpled wads of paper lying on the floor.

 _I need to tell you something,_ he wrote, only to cross it out. ~~_There's something you need to know._ _I get the feeling you won't want to hear this, which is why_~~

"What are you writing?" Maria was coming out of the bathroom, pulling on her nightgown and sitting in the middle of the bed as she watched him.

"Just a letter."

"Who's it for?"

"You."

She paused for a moment, taken aback, then raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "We live in the same house, you know."

Manolo sighed as he stood up from his chair and sat next to her. "I don't know how to explain this to you."

"Is this about Valeria coming over today?"

He lay down, folding his arms under his head. "Yes…"

"Don't take it personally," she said as she lay beside him. "It isn't you. It would have been whoever I'd married."

"I'm not so sure."

Maria sighed. "She left the convent a few months before I did. Said her work there was done. I guessed she didn't want to be there if I wasn't staying."

"Was she really that serious about you being a nun?"

"She talked about it all the time."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her I missed my home. And that I had someone waiting for me."

Manolo smiled at the thought.

"So," his wife finished, "the least you can do is be nice to her."

"But I still need to - "

_"That's enough."_

"It's important, Maria."

"Then you can tell me first thing in the morning." She yawned and snuggled against him. "You'll feel better once you've had some sleep."

He glanced at her, then up at the desk. "…Maybe you're right."

Maria smiled and kissed his cheek. _"Buenas noches, mi querido."_

"Goodnight."

They slipped under the covers. Manolo lay in her arms for several minutes, waiting until he could feel her drift off to sleep. Gently untangling himself from her, he crept back to the desk and picked up his pencil.

_Maria,_

_You won't believe what I'm about to tell you. I don't quite believe it myself. But I know it happened, and I need to make sense of it. I need your help, Maria. I think we're in danger. All of us._

* * *

The moon was new that night, the streets of San Angel dark. Those not already inside hurried home, casting furtive glances all around. No one respectable was out wandering the streets this late.

Five swishing cloaks approached the dimly lit cantina, accompanied by the squeak of their old leather boots. The room was quiet before, but it fell silent when Valeria's assistants stepped inside.

"Is there a problem?" the eldest of the group asked, a man with beady eyes and a short, dark mustache and beard.

A few people muttered, but the bartender glared at them and shook his head. "What will you have?"

"Nothing," the man answered. "The one curse of our profession."

"And what profession might that be?" a loud voice slurred from a table in the back.

The five newcomers' heads all whipped around to stare at its source, a brazened old farmer. "You aren't like any church folk I've ever met," he said, glaring.

The other man raised an eyebrow and ambled towards the table. "I suppose we aren't," he answered, sitting down.

The farmer glanced about, then leaned closer to him. "You're here to kill it, aren't you?"

"It?"

"The demon that pretends it's a man," he hissed. "The demon that took the face of the Sanchez boy when he passed."

Valeria's assistant motioned to the bartender for a drink. "Sounds fascinating."

* * *

Valeria looked up when she heard the knock on the attic door. "Come in."

Her assistants entered, locking the door behind them. "We plied the locals," their leader said. "Just as you instructed."

"And?"

The man's eyes glittered. "You were right. The monster is here. We shall strike with your permission - "

"Not yet," Valeria said, snapping her book shut. Standing up, she walked to the shelves at the back of the room and began to peruse the rows of vials and jars. "We need more proof."

"There was talk of a body beneath the tree at the end of the bridge."

"Go retrieve it, if it is there. It must be examined."

"Yes, my lady."

"But before that," she added as she plucked a small cylinder of green glass from its resting place, "I want you to bring me the girl."


	5. Chapter 5

The best and most frustrating thing about the Mondragon twins, even to those who tolerated them, was the way they took everything to heart.

“She’s probably a witch who eats little girls and takes baths in their blood,” Gabriela said, grinning at the morbid thought. “And she’s coming for you next!”

Ofelia stared at her, alarmed, while Vicente rolled his eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“What? She looks tasty.”

“I-I don’t think it’s that,” Ofelia said quickly. “She looked at Papa that way, too. And…”

“And then what?” the twins asked, leaning closer.

She slipped down from her windowsill seat and quietly shut her bedroom door before continuing. “I could hear voices coming from her carriage.”

“You mean the people with her?” Vicente said.

She shook her head. “Dead people.”

Now the twins were interested. “But they should be in the Land of the Remembered, shouldn’t they?”

“I don’t think they could go there,” she answered. “They were asking someone to let them out.”

Vicente started towards the door. “I bet your papa would know what to do about this - “

“No!” Ofelia grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

She looked at the floor, crossing her arms. “…I haven’t told them yet.”

He gave her an odd look. “You said you were going to.”

“I was…”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

She couldn’t decide. Getting Valeria’s attention? Giving people more reasons to continue their talk of demons? Hearing the word from her own parents’ mouths? _  
_

_There’s nothing wrong with me, is there? And there’s nothing wrong with you._ As long as her father believed it, she could pretend it was true. “I…I’ll do it later.”

“But - “

“Leave her alone, Vin!” Gabriela said, pushing him to the side. “We don’t need the grown-ups anyway. I have a better idea.”

The other children exchanged an uneasy look. “What’s that?”

She smirked. “We find out what’s really in that carriage.”

* * *

The churchyard was nearly empty that afternoon, except for a few stray visitors who cleared out as they heard the children coming up the hill. The carriage was still sitting in the shadow of the church, just as its owners had left it. The small door was hanging slightly ajar, and several boxes were stacked next to the stairs. Valeria’s assistants were standing in a side doorway of the church, heads bowed as they whispered to each other.

The children slipped through the bars of the front gate and darted behind the nearest grave, slowly peering out over it. At the sight of the cloaked figures, Ofelia ducked out of view. “Maybe we should come back later…”

Gabriela pulled her back. “They’re going inside now, see?”

Sure enough, the people were vanishing into the church and closing the door behind them.

Emerging from their hiding place, the children glanced around. It was only them now, and a straight run across the yard to the carriage. “On my signal,” Gabriela whispered, adjusting her satchel.

“What do we do if they come back?”

She wasn’t listening. _“Uno…dos… **tres!”**_ She took off in a sprint before the last word had left her mouth, and her friends had no choice but to frantically follow.

Gabriela skidded to a stop beside the carriage, resting a hand on its side as she looked around. No trouble yet. “Inside, quick,” she told Vicente and Ofelia when they caught up.

The wooden steps groaned beneath them as they hurried up as quietly as they could, and the door closed with a loud clank when they shut it behind them. In the blink of an eye, they were trapped in pitch darkness with the smell of wax and old books.

“I’d be weird if I was stuck in here, too,” Vicente muttered, wrinkling his nose.

“Wait a minute.” Gabriela dug through her satchel for a moment before pulling out a matchbox and a candle. Striking one of the matches and lighting the wick, she slowly held it up and moved it around. “Careful…”

The carriage couldn’t have been more cramped. There was no proper furniture to speak of, only two rows of tall shelves that turned what little floor space there was into a narrow hallway. The only place to sit or lie down was a chest covered with a rug. A small iron lantern hung from a hook on the ceiling, the only source of light to be seen. Each shelf was packed from end to end with thick, yellowed, leather-bound books and glass containers of all shapes and sizes.

Vicente looked askance at their surroundings. “I wonder what happens when they need to go to the - “

“Put the candle out.”

The twins both stared at Ofelia. “What?”

“Put the candle out!” she whispered again, more urgently. Grabbing it out of Gabriela’s hand, she blew out the flame.

The darkness, however, did not reclaim them. Instead the single yellow light was replaced with several faint blue ones. Wispy, glowing strands of something unnameable were floating and flickering inside the jars.

Gabriela’s jaw dropped. “Told you she’s a witch.”

Ofelia slowly walked up and down the stretch of floor as she ran her hands over the vials. “They’re crying.” She snatched one off a low shelf, a small cylinder made of green glass. “Hello?” she whispered, holding it up to her ear. _“Está bien._ We’re here to help. What happened to you?”

The wisp began to glow and move, as though it would speak if it could. Ofelia listened to it, her eyes slowly growing wider.

“What’s it saying?” Vicente asked.

Her gaze snapped back up. “We have to let them out,” she commanded. “All of them.”

“…the ones you requested, my lady…”

The children froze at the approaching voice and footsteps coming from outside. Gabriela’s eyes darted around, finally landing on the chest. Running to it and lifting up the lid, she flung herself inside. Vicente and Ofelia followed her, the latter tucking the green vial inside a pocket on her dress. Moments after the lid clapped shut, the carriage door creaked open.

The chest, thankfully, was filled only with some wool blankets. The trio burrowed deep into them, holding their breaths as they heard the thud of leather boots on wood. A man was muttering to himself as he rummaged through the nearby shelves. Something was dragged out of place, a box opened and then shut once more. The footsteps began to move away.

Then they suddenly stopped, and then they came closer to the chest.

Vicente covered Gabriela’s mouth and his own. Ofelia closed her eyes and hugged her knees. The vial began to glow brighter and vibrate.

The figure stood in front of the chest for moments that felt like hours. They tapped its lid, then lightly kicked its side. The children flinched, and Vicente let out a quiet whimper.

The footsteps returned - slowly at first, then quicker ones that quickly grew faint and were cut off by the slam of the door.

“Is he gone?” Ofelia whispered.

Gabriela pushed the lid up. “I think so…”

They clambered back into the open and crept towards the door, wincing each time a board squeaked beneath them. “We need to get home,” Ofelia said.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriela said, swallowing her stutter as she found the door handle. “I think we can - “

In the blink of an eye, the door was ripped from her hands as it swung open. Blinding light struck their eyes, and a pair of gloved hands roughly grabbed their arms and dragged them outside.

“Well,” Valeria’s assistant said as he glared down at them. “I thought I heard some vermin.”


	6. Chapter 6

Slamming his boot into the man's leg, Vicente managed to get about five steps before he was grabbed by his shirt collar and hoisted off the ground. _"Don't kill me!"_ he shrieked as he tried in vain to run through the air. "It's all Bry's fault! It was her idea!"

"You said it was a good idea!" his sister yelled back.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

_"Quiet!"_ Valeria's assistant shouted, shaking him. You shall speak when you are answering to my mistress for - "

"For what?"

The four of them looked up. Standing in the church doorway was Valeria, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised as she observed the scene. "Well?" she asked when the others didn't answer, a hint of steel slipping into her voice. "Explain."

"I found these little beasts in the wagon," Valeria's assistant said, shaking the children again. "Sneaking about."

The woman's eyes narrowed as she stepped forward. "Bring them closer."

Smirking, the man tossed the children onto the cobblestones in front of her. They staggered to their feet, trembling and trying to look around in search of the nearest escape.

Valeria's gaze seemed to bore down from miles above them as she spoke. "What were you doing in my carriage?" Her voice was soft and quiet, like a pot of water coming to a slow boil.

"…I-It was my idea, ma'am," Gabriela mumbled as the three of them looked away.

"I did not ask whose idea it was."

The children remained silent as they shuffled, shifting their weight from foot to foot.

"If you answer me," Valeria said after a few seconds, "I shall not tell your parents what you have done. I am a woman of my word, I assure you."

Ofelia was the first to glance back up. "We just wanted to…to see what was inside."

"And did you find what you were looking for?"

The glass vial felt heavy in her pocket, and she prayed Valeria could not see it. Its movement had ceased and its light had gone out, as though it was waiting to see what would happen next.

"…Yes, ma'am."

Valeria acknowledged the answer with a nod of her head. "Very well. You are free to leave."

Her assistant looked at her askance. "Surely you do not - "

"I certainly do." She glared down at the children. "But you shall find no leniency should you come here again. Now go."

The twins ran first, stumbling over one another's feet as they hurried towards the churchyard gate. Ofelia slowly followed, allowing herself to breathe normally again.

"Except for you, girl."

She froze. "…Me?"

"Yes. Look at me when I am speaking to you."

Ofelia slowly turned around, still standing in place. The twins lingered at the gate, eyes wide with fear. Valeria glowered at them, and they drifted out of sight step by step.

"W-What would - "

"Don't stutter."

Ofelia gulped. "What would you like from me, _señora?"_

"Walk with me a while." Valeria moved towards the gate, motioning for Ofelia to follow.

"I really should be getting home."

"We shall go past your house. I will see to it that you arrive safely."

"You don't need to - "

"You will _do as I say,_ child."

_"…Si,_ _señora_." Hanging her head, Ofelia trudged behind Valeria as they descended the hill.

* * *

The vial was growing warmer, although its light could not be seen through the fabric. Ofelia lagged a few steps behind Valeria, placing a hand over her pocket to cover the small lump.

Valeria doubled back, seemingly not content to have the girl out of her sight for even a moment. "You're slower than I thought you would be."

_"Lo siento."_

"Don't lie to me."

Ofelia flinched. "What do you mean?"

"You do not wish to be here. You wish to be away from me."

_It's not just me._ She looked at the cobblestones as she continued to walk. "I don't mean to…"

Valeria looked straight ahead. "I do not ask to be loved," she said. "I only ask to be respected."

"Yes, ma'am," Ofelia said.

"The mission I have committed myself to is one that cannot be accomplished by lesser folk," Valeria continued. "It is work of the utmost importance. The work of God."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Her tone suddenly grew icy.

Ofelia shuddered but nodded. "Papa says God's work is very important."

"Do you think he believes what he says?"

The girl began to lag behind once more. "Papa means everything he says."

Valeria suddenly stopped and turned around, looking her in the eye and blocking her way. "Even when he says he loves you and your mother?"

Ofelia stumbled and stopped, taken off-guard. "A-Always then…"

"Are you certain?"

She tried to dart around the older woman and run, but a gnarled hand grabbed her by the arm and another hand brushed her hair behind her ear. Valeria's sharp nails moved across her skin, digging into her when they reached the unusual, discolored shape.

"What is this?" Valeria asked, staring intently at the girl's birthmark as she traced it with a finger.

"Just a mark. Mama and Papa say it's…"

She trailed off as she noticed Valeria's expression. The woman's eyes had bugged out, and now they were glinting with hatred and revulsion. Quickly stepping away from the girl, she crossed herself.

"What's wrong?"

"I must go," she muttered before walking past her.

"Wait!" Ofelia called out, but she had already melted into the crowd.

She didn't realize her legs were shaking until she nearly collapsed. The vial was beginning to move and glow again. _Don't listen to her._

Not sure whether to hold it closer or throw it away, Ofelia hurriedly covered her birthmark and ran the rest of the way home.

* * *

"You let her go?" Valeria's assistant asked incredulously. "You said you wanted her brought to you."

"I've done all I can for her," Valeria said, flipping through a large, ancient book sitting on her desk. "At least for now."

"You want to keep her alive?"

"She is still young. She knows not what she is." Valeria marked a spot in the book before closing it. "If she realizes, perhaps she can be saved. Maria as well."

"What now, then?"

She handed him a bunch of herbs tied together with twine. "Brew these up for that fool of a priest," she commanded. "I have a sermon to write."


	7. Chapter 7

From where Manolo was sitting, he could see his daughter clearly as she crept past the open studio door. “And what have _you_ been up to?” he asked her with a smile.

Ofelia froze as he spoke, her eyes bugging practically out of their sockets. Her gaze briefly met her father’s, and then she forced it down. “Just playing, Papa,” she mumbled, looking at her hands.

He put his guitar down as he stood up. “Is something wrong?” he asked, walking towards her.

Quickly shaking her head, she darted away from him. “No, Papa.”

He paused in the doorway, watching her as she hurried down the hall and slipped into her room. _“Mija_ …?”

A hand touched his shoulder. “Give her some space for a little while,” Maria said. “Maybe then she’ll want to talk.”

Manolo hesitated, still looking down the hall, but then nodded. “Alright.” He made his way back to the music stand with slow steps, glancing at the clock on the wall as he sat. The ticking rang in his ears as he plucked strings and jotted meaningless notes on his sheet music. Fifteen minutes, then thirty. Then an hour, and then he couldn’t take it anymore.

* * *

The sound of his knuckles on the wood of her door was too loud for his liking. “Ofelia?” he asked as he tried again more gently. “Are you still in here?”

The response didn’t come at first. When it did, it was small and hesitant. _“…Si.”_

Turning the knob, Manolo slowly opened the door and peered inside.

Ofelia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a book lying in her lap as she thumbed through its pages without really looking at them. She seemed smaller than usual, more bedraggled.

He tried to smile for her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

As soon as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. Ofelia stiffened and recoiled as she looked up, her eyes damp and red.

Manolo took an involuntary step back at the sight. “I’m sorry…?”

“It’s okay,” she answered slowly, as though trying to keep her voice calm.

“I’d like to come in for a while. Is that alright?”

She nodded, looking back down at her book.

Manolo approached her as though he might scare her away, then sat at the far end of the bed. “Did something happen today? Did you run into Elena again?”

Ofelia shook her head as she pulled her book closer to her face. 

With a sigh, Manolo reached out and gently plucked the makeshift barrier from his daughter’s hands. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he said. “I just want to help you. I don’t like knowing you’re in here like this.”

For a moment her eyes seemed to dart past him, towards one of her dresser drawers. But then her focus had returned to him, awkwardly wavering. “We were out playing,” she began. “At…the churchyard.”

His eyebrows shot up. “It was Valeria, wasn’t it?”

Ofelia paused before nodding.

“What did she say to you?” he asked, his tone turning urgent.

The girl only froze and bit her lip. She trembled as she shook her head, her eyes turning glassy once again.

Manolo wrapped an arm around her. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t pay attention to anything that woman says. Don’t go near her by yourself anymore, either. If she frightens you like this again, come tell me. Okay?”

“What about Mama?”

“Don’t worry about Mama, I’ll talk to her,” he answered. “We just want you to be safe.”

Ofelia leaned against his side, looking up at him. “Okay, Papa.”

He let out a relieved breath as he hugged her. “Why don’t you come downstairs? I’ll make _abuela’s_ tamales tonight, and then we can read together. Would you like that?”

She nodded, a hint of her usual vigor beginning to show itself. “Yes, Papa.”

“I’ll just need to run an errand after dinner.” He got up from the bed and began to walk towards the door.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Ofelia pushed a few curls behind her ear, exposing the birthmark. “What does this mean, Papa?”

Manolo knelt down, examining the symbol. “I’m not sure,” he said after a few moments. “Maybe it just means you’re different.”

“Is that good?” she asked, trying not to look afraid.

He only ruffled her hair and kissed her forehead. “Don’t think of it.”

She waited until he was gone to let her smile fade.

* * *

The knocking on the side door of the church was loud and sharp, and Manolo only ceased when he heard the sound of footsteps clicking down the hall. When Valeria opened the door, he had to resist the urge to recoil.

“What do you want so late?” the woman snapped, holding a candle and still in her black dress.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. “I came to speak with you, _señora.”_

“Be quick about it, then. I have much to prepare for tomorrow.”

“My daughter said you spoke with her today.”

Valeria crinkled her nose. “Hmmm…? Oh, yes. Of course.” 

Her tone was flat and distant, and Manolo nearly clenched his fists at the sound. “What did you say to her?”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

She began to shut the door, only for Manolo to jam it with his foot and force it back open. “She was scared out of her wits when she came home. _What did you say to her?”_

“Merely some trained observations,” Valeria answered, fixing her icy eyes on his. “It would do her good to listen to them, I think.”

“I don’t want to see you near her again, _ever,”_ he snarled. “Do you understand?”

With abrupt speed, Valeria shoved him out of the doorway. “I shall do as I wish.”

They glared at each other as Manolo picked himself up. “I already told her to stay away from you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are there any other matters you wish to accost us with?”

“I’d like to ask Father Domingo about - “

“Father Domingo is ill.”

Manolo nearly stumbled backwards again. “What do you mean?”

“He took to his bed with a strong fever this evening,” Valeria said tersely. “Quite suddenly. I suspect he shall not be well enough to move for a number of days.”

“Who’s going to lead the service tomorrow, then?”

“I shall.” She seemed to smirk as she said so. “If you attend, I shall allow you to speak with him.”

“My lady…!”

She turned her head back towards the corridor. Through the doorway, Manolo could see one of her assistants beckoning to her. “We found it,” he whispered.

Valeria’s eyes widened for a moment. “I bid you goodnight, Señor Sanchez. Do not come calling at this hour again.” Blowing out her candle, she slammed the door in his face.

Manolo cast a glance up at one of the higher windows. Flames flickered, and shadows holding strange tools moved back and forth against the closed curtain. He took his time walking home, kicking a small rock down the street as he went.

_If no one else is going to do something about you,_ he thought, _then I will._


	8. Chapter 8

She took the pulpit promptly at nine the next morning, a Bible under one arm and a stack of papers under the other. Her face showed no expression as she looked out at the uneasy congregation, but her eyes were glinting.

“Do you know,” Valeria said, “which book of the Bible I have studied most closely?”

No one spoke up, although a few nuns muttered something about Leviticus.

A smile crept across Valeria’s mouth, lingering at the corners. “Revelation.”

Manolo couldn’t remember much of the details from that one, only half-remembered images from childhood nightmares. Now they returned to his mind, clear and sharp and magnified by the woman’s words: falling stars that darkened the world, locusts with human faces and wings like a million hoofbeats, horsemen bringing death and pestilence. Even the general began to squirm as she took nearly half an hour to describe exactly what went on in the lake of fire.

“And,” Valeria said as the sermon neared its end, “we mustn’t forget the Beast. The Anti-Christ, some call it. That which came from the abyss below to crown itself our ruler and infect us with its mark.” Opening her Bible, she flipped to a page near the end. “‘And he causes all, the small and the great, and the rich and the poor, and the free men and the slaves, to be given a mark on their right hand or on their forehead,’” she read aloud, “’and he provides that no one will be able to buy or to sell, except the one who has the mark, either the name of the beast or the number of his name. Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for the number is that of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty-six.‘ Or so they say.”

She set down her book and leaned forward to address her audience, gripping the sides of the pulpit. “It is near impossible to find the truth in this day and age, with the word of God corrupted so. How can we truly know what the Mark of the Beast is? It could be a number, or a word, or a symbol. The emblem of death disguised as that of love.”

At his side, Manolo felt Ofelia shudder and grab his arm.

“Perhaps we cannot know until it is too late,” Valeria finished quietly. “Perhaps.”

* * *

Manolo did not linger after the service - as soon as he was on his feet, he was hurrying for the door. Greetings from friends were answered only with a quick nod, and he turned around every few seconds to reassure himself that Ofelia was keeping up with him. “Stay close,” he said, taking her hand. “We’re going straight home. _Maria!”_

Looking around, he resisted the urge to fume when he saw where she was. Valeria had her locked in some conversation back near the pulpit, along with Ixa and Joaquin. When Maria saw him, she merely motioned for him to go on ahead.

_Not while you’re alone with her._ “Just a little longer, _mija,”_ he said, walking towards the group. “I need to take care of this.”

Valeria eyed him as he approached. “And what did _you_ think of my sermon, Señor Sanchez?”

“Truly thought-provoking,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’d love to discuss it further, but Maria and I really ought to be getting home…”

“Actually,” his wife said, “Ixa and I were gonna stick around here for a while longer.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Really?”

“She asked if we might help her prepare some herbs for Father Domingo,” Ixa said.

“Oh…”

Valeria seemed to smirk at him. “I’m afraid they’re mine for the afternoon.”

“Then why don’t I join you?”

The older woman frowned before quickly resuming her neutral expression. “Hmmm?”

“You’ll get more work done. And we might be able to learn more about each other.” He turned to Joaquin. “You could watch Ofelia for a while, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he answered, casting a glance at the girl’s concerned face.

Ofelia was backing away from the group as she looked up at Valeria. “Papa…”

Manolo motioned for the women to leave without him, then knelt down and took his daughter’s hands in his. “We won’t be long, Ofelia.” When he had determined that they were out of earshot, he lowered his voice. “I need to keep Mama and Aunt Ixa safe from Miss Valeria. You can understand that, can’t you?”

The girl hesitated, but then nodded.

_“Gracias._ Now don’t worry about us. Play with your friends, read something you like, get your mind off this morning. We’ll come back for you. I promise.” He hugged her, then stood and hurried away.

She watched him leave as though she would never see him again.

* * *

In the back of the church, its oldest section, a narrow stone staircase that was cracked and smoothed with age wound upwards in a tight spiral. It ended in a heavy wooden door and a set of cramped, drafty rooms which had been formed from spare attic space and promptly abandoned. These, Valeria explained, she had found suitable for her study and living quarters.

_It’s good if you want to be left alone,_ Manolo thought as he made his way through the labyrinth spread out on the floor. There were no shelves in the tiny front room, so books, chests and glass jars spread out wherever there was room. In the smaller room where Valeria kept her desk and cot, there were more shelves but even more clutter.

“How do you manage to carry this stuff around?” Maria asked incredulously when she saw it all.

“Meticulously.”

“I bet I could help you organize it,” she said, starting to rummage through the papers on the desk. A long sheet of words crossed out in red ink slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. “What’s this?”

Valeria snatched it from her hands and stowed it away before she could finish the sentence. “A personal matter.”

They were sitting around a square table now, grinding down plants with brightly colored flowers and spiky leaves. A metal teapot whistled atop a little iron stove in the corner. The rafters creaked, and cold air seeped in through the cracks in and around the window.

Manolo shivered, unsure of whether it was the chill or the woman’s presence. “So, that sermon. You…seem very interested in that sort of thing.”

“As we should all be,” Valeria answered sharply, crushing a blossom under her pestle. “The end of days is inevitable. All that people of my sort can do is merely delay its arrival.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are those in this world,” she continued, “that would see it sooner rather than later.”

“May I ask you something?”

They all looked at Ixa, who was holding up some plants by the tips of her fingers: one was a vine-like thing covered in red leaves, and the other had bulbous flowers colored an acidic green. “Where did you find these?” the young woman asked, staring at Valeria with hints of suspicion and fear.

“Simple herbs, nothing more.”

“They are very rare where I come from,” Ixa said, setting them down. “We call them fire lace and snakebell. My sisters showed them to me.”

At this, Manolo and Maria both stiffened. “Should someone go check on Father Domingo?” the former asked.

Valeria stared at them. “Go on, then.”

* * *

Father Domingo was still much too ill to return to his own house, Valeria said, so they had cleared out enough room in his study to place down a cot and a side table. A single candle burned in the small, swept room, casting light on his face. His features were sunken, his skin almost yellowed. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as he tossed and turned, muttering.

The two Sanchezes stared down at him in horror. Maria touched his forehead and quickly drew her hand back. “He’s burning up.”

Manolo could only shake his head. This wasn’t right - an ordinary sickness as bad as this would have spread beyond just one man.

Father Domingo’s eyes gradually fluttered open. He stared at his visitors with glazed eyes for a moment, then nodded a greeting. “On my desk,” he managed to croak out as he lifted a trembling hand and pointed. “For Manolo…”

A stack of letters, folders and newspaper clippings sat bound with a length of cord. “Thank you,” Manolo said as his wife retrieved it.

“A word, boy. In private.”

Maria nodded and backed out of the room. Manolo waited until she was gone to lean closer to the old man. “Is there anything I can…”

Father Domingo suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt. _“Leave,”_ he wheezed. “Take your family and leave San Angel. Go as far as you can and never come back. Don’t _ever_ let her find you.”

* * *

Manolo was still shaking when he found his way back to Valeria’s rooms. “Are you alright?“ Maria asked, springing to her feet and hurrying towards him.

“We need to go,” he answered, grabbing her hand.

“But there’s still a bunch of - “

“I can manage by myself,” Valeria said, waving away her protest. “Your husband needs tending to. Will you see them home safely, Señora Mondragon?”

“Oh, yes,” Ixa said, clearly glad to be leaving.

“Keep your wits about you, Maria. Perhaps I shall call on you later.”

The trio fumbled down the staircase, Maria guiding Manolo and Ixa steadying him from behind. The slight itch that came from the bundle of twigs tied like a triangle, deftly slipped between the red-haired woman’s corset and the back of her dress, went unnoticed.


	9. Chapter 9

Looking back on that evening, Maria chided herself for not realizing that something was about to happen. After the quick departure from the church, she had helped her husband home and onto the parlor sofa. As soon as he was sitting, he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful, mumbling sleep. 

He hasn’t acted like this in years, she thought as she placed a blanket over him and smoothed his hair. _What’s he so worried about?_

When Manolo woke a few hours later, a change had come over him. He said very little to Maria but instead hurried upstairs with the packet from Father Domingo. She found him at his desk in their bedroom, eyes wide as he pored over the papers. He didn’t look up when she entered, nor when he answered her plea to come downstairs for lunch.

“I’m fine,” he said, hints of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Don’t wait for me.” He gave Ofelia the same answer hours later, when she hesitantly knocked on his door and asked him to come to dinner.

The girl drew back, then lingered a moment. “Papa? Can we…do some reading later?”

“Not tonight. Another time.”

She turned and left him, trudging down the stairs. “I don’t think Papa’s feeling well,” she told her mother as she entered the dining room.

Maria sighed as she looked at the empty table setting beside her. “I know, _mija._ I know.”

They ate in silence and sat quietly in the parlor afterwards. Maria tried to draw, erasing and redoing her lines every few minutes, and Ofelia flipped through a book as one hand rested on the mark beneath her ear.

Next door, a fire was burning merrily in the Mondragons’ sitting room. Ixa sewed and smiled as she and Joaquin talked, and the twins raced around batting at each other with wooden swords. The young woman suddenly frowned and squirmed in her chair, rolling her shoulders back and forth. “Hmmm…”

“You okay?” Joaquin asked.

“Yes,” she answered, settling back down. “It must have been nothing.”

* * *

A single candle burned amidst the darkness of the church, casting light on Valeria’s determined features as she worked. _They seem quite fond of this girl,_ she thought, holding up a lock of Ixa’s hair. _Such a shame._

Two more wooden triangles lay in front of her on the desk, tied to strings. Looped and knotted around the side of one were a few strands of curly black hair. This one she set aside, and tied the piece of red hair around the other. Holding it up by the string, she whispered a few words in Latin as she lowered the triangle until it was just above the candle flame. The fire licked at the wood and the hair, catching it and slowly spreading.

“Come now,” Valeria muttered. _“Burn.”_

It still wasn’t catching the hair. _Has she already found the other charm?_

The candle suddenly flared up, its fire briefly flashing green. The lock of hair burst into flames, shriveling up and turning to ash. At the same time, miles away, a high-pitched scream of pain echoed through the streets.

Valeria smiled.

* * *

Ofelia started and dropped her book, while Maria bolted to her feet. “That’s Ixa!”

Manolo ran down the stairs a moment later, nearly tripping. “What’s going on?”

She was already at the door, a knife strapped to her side as she put on her coat. “I’m going to find out.”

“Maria, don’t - “

“Ixa’s in danger!” Throwing the door open, she ran off into the night.

Ofelia peered out from the sofa cushion she had buried her face in. “Papa…?”

“Stay here,” he snapped, shutting the door behind him as he went to follow his wife.

Casa de Mondragon’s front door was locked - Manolo and Maria had to force it open. When they stumbled into the foyer, they saw the twins huddled at the top of the staircase.

“What happened?” Maria demanded, stepping forward.

“It’s Mama,” Vicente answered. “All of a sudden she just…” He shook his head, trembling.

“Where?”

“The sitting room.”

She and Manolo hurried past the children, down the hall and around the corner. The double doors of the sitting room hung open, but when they ran inside, they found themselves frozen with shock in the doorway.

Ixa was screaming at the top of her lungs as she writhed and convulsed on the floor. Her arms were flailing about, and her eyes had rolled back into her head. Joaquin was at her side, desperately trying to hold her down. _“Ixa!”_ he shouted, close to hysterics himself. “Ixa, can you hear me?!”

As she flung him off again, Manolo caught a glimpse of her back. There was a lump beneath the fabric of her dress, a small triangle, and she was clawing at it. Grabbing Maria’s knife, he ignored her protests as he ran forward, knelt by his friend and shoved the blade between the stitches. He ripped the back of the dress open, and a small, glowing triangular object tumbled out.

Ixa shuddered and fell still, gasping for breath. Her eyes fluttered shut and then open again as her irises and pupils rolled back into view. She sat up, her eyes darted around the room until they saw Joaquin. Darting forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, wordlessly trembling. “Are you alright…?”

“Me? What about _you?”_

Theobject from her dresshad landed on the floor _._ It was a wooden triangle, slowly smoldering as though inlaid with embers. Maria reachedfor it,only to draw her hand awayasshe feltthe white heat radiating from its surface.

Ixa grew pale and recoiled.“Magic,” she whispered.“Of the dark kind.”

Manolo said nothing. He was looking down at the charm with a stony glare, his hands slowly clenching into fists.

“What’s wrong?” Maria asked, placing a hand on his arm.

He merely turned and stormed from the room.

* * *

Maria caught up with him in the foyer. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To find Ofelia. We need to leave town. All three of us.”

She gaped. “Someone just tried to kill our friend and you don’t want to do anything about it?”

“We’re not safe here!” he said. “I need to get you two away from Valeria!”

“You think _she_ did this?”

“I _know_ she did! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“Why would she try to hurt Ixa?”

“Because she thinks she’s some kind of demon hunter. It’s all in the papers Father Domingo got for me…”

“You dragged him into this too?” Maria was backing away from him now, shaking her head.

“She didn’t come here to study anything. She came here to hurt people because some old book said they weren’t people at all. It’s all in the letters and newspapers. Every place she’s gone, someone’s disappeared.”

“I don’t believe you…”

“You don’t know her as well as you think, Maria,” he said, trying to come near her. “I’m sorry, but it’s true - “

_“Stop!”_ she screamed. She was tense and trembling as she looked up at him, and fire was raging in her eyes. “Just. _Stop.”_

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Manolo looked down at the floor, his expression still dark. “Then I’ll make sure you won’t have to.” He walked away from her, pausing in the doorway to glance back, then stepped out into the night.

Later she would wonder what might have happened had she followed him. At that moment, however, Maria couldn’t bring herself to care.

* * *

Valeria was watching the door when he reached the top of the staircase. Her assistants’ hands went to the knives and guns at their sides, but she shook her head. “Admit him.”

“Are you certain, my lady?”

“Quite.”

Manolo pounded on the ancient wood. “I know you’re in there!”

She motioned for her assistants to back into the shadows. “Indeed I am.”

He flung the door open and stormed up to her desk, seeing only her in the dim candlelight. “Perhaps you can fool Maria, but you can’t fool me.”

Valeria looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “Really.”

“I know what you really came here to do,” he continued. “And I was there when you tried killing Ixa with whatever that thing was - “

“Kill her? Oh, no, Señor Sanchez. Absolutely not.”

He stopped, his tirade suddenly cut off. “What are you talking about?”

She stood, showing him the second triangle dangling from her belt. “There are some who would call me a hypocrite, using the mysterious arts as I do. I call it resourcefulness. In the face of Hell’s emissaries, one requires all the power they can muster.“ Walking towards a nearby pile of boxes, she reached into one and pulled out what looked like an empty wine bottle made of black glass. “What I placed on your friend was an enchantment of purification. A spell to burn away all that is unholy in a soul. I was testing it.”

Manolo was beginning to back towards the door, still not seeing the other people in the room. “Testing it for what?”

“The one who needs it most.” She took the triangle off her belt and held it over the candle. “I had to speak with the girl before I could deem this charm necessary. I suspect my assistants are placing it beneath her bed as we speak.”

The color drained from Manolo’s face. “Ofelia…”

Valeria watched as the triangle caught flame. “Perhaps her soul can still be saved.”

_“No!”_ He rushed at her, only to be caught and held fast by the men who jumped out of the shadows. “Stay away from my family!”

“What family? That which you have crafted from the lies you told my pupil? Your hold on her shall soon be broken.” She walked up to the frantic, struggling man, bottle still in hand. “And once I cure the girl of your demons’ blood and purge Maria’s mind of your spells…” She pulled out the cork. “…it shall be as though you never were.”

Everything went black. It was like a hundred buildings were falling on him all at once, crushing him into a space too small to even think in. He screamed, but there was no one to hear him. Only the nothingness that stretched out in every direction.

_Mis amores,_ he thought, moments before it all enveloped him. _Maria…Ofelia…oh, God, no…_


	10. Chapter 10

When the next day finally dawned, hardly anyone in town noticed. The sky was covered in dark gray clouds that covered the sun, and the light which managed to seep through was pale and weak. Thunderclouds were gathering in the distance, accompanied by faint rumbling and flashes of light. A cold wind swept over the roofs and through the streets.

Maria shivered and pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stepped into the street. The walk home seemed agonizingly long: she had spent the rest of the night with the Mondragons after her husband's departure, making sure Ixa was unharmed. There were no burns on her skin or clothing, but she wouldn't stop trembling and murmuring about "wickedness afoot, terrible wickedness." A cup of tea calmed her nerves somewhat, and eventually she managed to drift off into a light sleep.

"You need any help with the kids?" Maria asked Joaquin as they sat and watched her.

He shook his head. "I'll take over from here. You should get home."

"But - "

"I can look after my family, Maria," he said. "You need to look after yours."

When she opened the front door, she found herself in a dark and empty parlor. "Manolo?" she called out. No answer from the kitchen or dining room, nor from upstairs. _"Mi amor?"_

He'd been angry and stubborn when they spoke last, and so had she. But he had also been afraid - deathly so, in fact. Maria hadn't seen the panic in his eyes at the time, but now the sight was beginning to churn in her mind. _I need to find him._

She slowly approached the staircase, looking upwards for a glimpse of his form. "Can we talk?"

"Papa isn't here…"

She turned around. Ofelia was still on the sofa, her hair and glasses disheveled as she lay curled beneath a blanket. Chuy was at her feet, frowning and growling in his sleep.

"Where's your father, _mija?"_

The girl shrugged. "He left with you."

"You mean he hasn't come back?"

Ofelia shook her head. "I waited. Is he okay?"

"I think so," she lied. _This isn't right._ Manolo wouldn't dare leave their girl alone if he believed she was in danger, not as long as he was breathing.

"Is Aunt Ixa okay?"

"Yes, Aunt Ixa's okay. But now I need to go find your papa. Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ofelia."

The girl nodded and slowly pulled herself off the sofa, still wrapped in the blanket. "Are you going to come back?"

Maria hesitated before putting on a smile. "We'll be home before you know it." She touched the knife beneath her coat as she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

Ofelia thought she heard a window creak as she climbed the stairs, but nothing happened when she stopped to listen. Shaking her head, she finished ascending the steps, trudged down the hall and slipped into her bedroom.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ he didn't come in for a while? I know sometimes he…"

"I haven't seen him anywhere, Señora Sanchez," the bartender answered. _"Lo siento."_

The more Maria asked around, the more likely it seemed that Manolo had somehow vanished from the island altogether. None of his friends had seen him in his usual hiding places, nor was there any word of him from the shopkeepers. She even went to her father and the soldiers, only to be told that they'd been on patrol all night and not seen a sign of him. Not even leaving town.

"It's about time!" a drunken voice shouted from the corner of the cantina - one of the farmers. "Good riddance, that's what I say. You've no reason to…"

He yelped as he suddenly found himself being lifted off his feet by his shirt collar, staring into Maria's eyes as they gleamed with rage. She was ready to fling him across the room when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

"And what," Valeria asked as her eyes darted between the two figures, "is going on here?"

Glaring at the man one more time, Maria dropped him on the ground. "I should be on my way." Before anyone could speak up, she was pushing a path through the gathered crowd and back out into the street.

"Wait." Valeria was behind her, standing with her arms folded. "Something is troubling you."

She paused. "I…" Manolo's words from the previous night suddenly ran through her mind, even as she tried to force them out. "It probably isn't something you could help me with."

"Tell me," the older woman said. "I insist."

Maria sighed and rubbed her temples. "I don't really know how to explain it."

"I was just going back to the church," Valeria said. "Come with me."

"I really need to keep looking for…"

"Your husband? Perhaps I can help."

* * *

The carriage had been brought around to the side door of the church when the women arrived. Valeria's assistants were marching back and forth, carrying chests which they packed inside their traveling quarters.

"You're leaving?" Maria asked.

Valeria nodded. "In a day or so. My work here is nearly done."

They wound up the narrow staircase, Valeria walking briskly and Maria following with new hesitation. "You said you could help me find Manolo?" the younger woman asked.

"We may certainly discuss it." There was a faraway lilt in her voice. "I have a pot of tea brewing. A foreign blend of some sort. I believe you will find it well-suited to your tastes."

The rooms upstairs were emptier than they had been the day before, yet somehow seemed more cluttered. Papers and books which had been in stacks were not strewn across the floor, as though knocked over in a scuffle. For some reason, it made Maria shudder.

"You mustn't mind the clutter," Valeria said. "Do sit down."

The tea was a very dark green, nearly black, and it smelled more like smoke than anything drinkable. Maria had to force herself not to wrinkle her nose at the smell. Valeria was watching, however, so she brought the cup to her lips and took a few gulps. Just as strong and bitter as it looked.

"Father Domingo will need to be looked after a while yet," said Valeria, who poured herself a cup but did not touch it. "He is not yet well enough to move."

"I'm sure the nuns will take good care of him…"

Setting her elbows on the table, the older woman stared into her eyes. "Now, tell me of what is troubling you."

For a reason she couldn't quite place, Maria wasn't sure how much she ought to tell. She spoke of Manolo's strange behavior that afternoon, how he had pushed them away. How they had heard Ixa's screams and the state she was found in, but not about what had apparently caused it. "And then Manolo…he kind of freaked out."

"How so?" It was the first remark Valeria had made since the younger woman began the tale.

"I think he was scared. He started saying that we had to leave, and then he was talking about all this weird stuff…"

"What did he say?"

"…Nothing important."

"But you could tell me if you wanted."

_"The point is,_ then he ran off because I got mad and now I can't find him anywhere." She gulped down the last of her tea, shuddering at the taste.

Valeria's face remained a placid mask. "Hmmm."

"I need you to help me, Valeria! I think he might be in danger!"

"And what makes you say that?"

"Because he'd never leave us. Especially not like this."

"You seem very certain of that."

_"Because I know him._ And if you aren't going to help me find him, then…" Maria stood up, only to wobble and grab the edge of the table as a wave of drowsiness and nausea swept over her. "Then…"

"Is something wrong?"

She rubbed her forehead as she tried to take a step towards the door. "I-I'm fine…"

"No need to lie," Valeria said, standing and walking towards her. "The brew does that to people."

"What do you…?" Then her eyes flew to the empty cup. "What the _hell_ did you put in that tea?"

"Hush now."

Her legs were going numb, and then they suddenly gave out from under her. The same thing happened to her arms as she tried to pull herself towards the door. Her throat wouldn't let her cry out for help, no matter how hard she tried. The last thing she saw before blacking out was Valeria kneeling over her, concern and sorrow written on her face.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, my dear," the older woman whispered. "But you will see clearly when you wake."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Contains torture, a reference to rape and general psychological trauma. Proceed with caution.

She could feel herself lying down as she came to. A thin, firm mattress was beneath her, and her arms were splayed out at her sides up near her head. Far away, faint voices were whispering and frequently pausing. She let her eyes drift open, trying to see who was with her, but the room was dark and quiet. Was she still in the church? She remembered the attic, and an empty teacup, and arguing with Valeria…

Valeria!

“Where is she?” Maria shouted into the nothingness, trying in vain to shake herself awake and sit up. Her arms and legs were still numb, and she thought she felt something clamped around them.

There were a few quick footsteps, and then a sudden blast of something icy and wet that left her sputtering and gasping for breath. The droplets slid down her face like the tips of razor-sharp knives. She tried to lift her hands to wipe them away, but they were held fast by what felt like handcuffs.

A candle flickered to life. “Oh, my dear,” a familiar voice hummed. “Were you not so resistant, perhaps this could have been avoided.”

Through her blurry eyes, Maria could see Valeria looking down at her from the bedside. “I…I don’t understand…”

“Your friend knew too much,” she answered, a hand on the wooden triangle hanging from her belt. “I fear you know too little.”

Maria stared at the charm. “We found one of those. On Ixa.”

Valeria nodded. “It kills unholy blood.”

The younger woman’s gaze slowly drifted back upwards. By the time it met that of her captor’s, the color had drained from her face and was replaced by shadow.

Valeria ran a hand through Maria’s hair. “I know this is very difficult for you to understand - “

 _“I trusted you!”_ she screamed, writhing against her restraints.

“And you shall once again.”

“You knew Manolo was trying to warn me about this, didn’t you?” she hissed. “What did you do with him?”

“He is where he belongs - “

“What did you do with him?”

“Manolo Sanchez has been dead for ten years!”

Maria froze. “What…?”

“He passed on the day you thought you married him, child. Something else took his place when he returned.”

“No.”

 _“Yes.”_ Grabbing Maria’s chin, Valeria wrenched her head around to face her. “This creature you call your husband does not love you. It never has. It bewitched you and it violated you, so that you might bring its unholy spawn into this world. Your daughter is no daughter. It is a demon and a beast.”

“I don’t believe you.” Maria was trembling now. “I don’t believe you…”

“You must, for your own sake.” Valeria brought a hand to the younger woman’s cheek and let it rest there. “I came here to help you, Maria. That’s all. I want you to come with me, as you were meant to. Leave this all behind. Please?”

Maria stared at her for a few seconds, making no sound. Then she took a breath, threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could. _“Help! HELP!”_

Valeria struck her across the face, the sound echoing through the basement. “Stop that.” Reaching into a pouch on her belt, she pulled out a rag and stuffed it into Maria’s mouth. The young woman continued to scream, tears welling up in her eyes.

The assistants were gathered in the corner of the room, eyes wide as they watched the proceedings. “You said she would be cured when we sealed away the demon,” one of them whispered.

Valeria furrowed her brows and began to pace back and forth. “It prepared for this,” she finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“A part of it must be inside her still. Controlling her. We must cast it out.”

“If it has claimed her,” one of the men said, “it will not let go without cause.”

“Then I shall give it cause.” Valeria walked towards a shelf by the basement door, where a small wooden box was perched. She rummaged through it, then pulled out a small iron vise. It was beginning to rust, and sharp spikes lined the inner sides of both jaws.

“So, creature,” she continued, approaching Maria once again. “You wish to protect this vessel of yours.” Grabbing one of the younger woman’s hands, she forced it between the jaws of the vise and spun the lever until it was held fast and tight. “Then I presume you do not wish her damaged?” She twisted the lever around further, forcing the jaws closer together.

Maria’s screams reached a fever pitch as the spikes dug into her flesh, drawing blood. Her thrashing grew more desperate, and the assistants rushed forward to hold her down.

“Ready to come out yet?” Valeria said. She tightened the vise further, and the sound of small bones creaking and cracking rewarded her.

“It’s working!” one of her assistants shouted, pointing at the shelf by the door. A glass wine bottle was wildly rocking back and forth as though trying to walk off the edge of its perch.

Valeria glared at the object, then at them. “What is it doing down here? I thought I told you to get it into the carriage.”

“We thought it would be seen.”

“You mustn’t let it break that bottle!” she shouted. “Put it upstairs, perhaps that will help. Then go see to the girl.”

“What about you?”

“I can finish this by myself.”

The others nodded and hurried out of the room, grabbing the bottle. Maria tried to sit up as they departed, straining as though wanting to call out.

 _“No!”_ Valeria shouted, shoving her back down. “I’ll slit her throat before I let you torment her another moment, do you understand?”

Maria suddenly froze and stiffened, looking up with wide, glazed eyes.

Valeria stared intently at her. “Do I have your attention, creature?”

The younger woman slowly nodded.

Taking off her crucifix, Valeria held it in Maria’s face. “Then by the power of Almighty Christ, I cast you out of this woman!”

Maria closed her eyes and went limp, exhaling deeply. Her frantic breathing slowed to a quiet pace, and her arms flopped to her sides when the vise and cuffs were undone.

Valeria did the same for the cuffs on the younger woman’s legs, then gently tapped her cheek. “Child? Are you awake?”

Her eyes snapped open. A flash of movement later, and something struck Valeria in the stomach. She stumbled and fell to the floor, the back of her head ringing from the collision with the stones.

Maria knelt over her, a knee on her chest and a hand wrapped around her throat. “Now tell me,” she whispered, hatred burning in her eyes. _“Where. Is. My. Husband?”_


	12. Chapter 12

Ofelia was burning alive.

It had begun with what felt like a faint pin prick on the back of her neck, as she was climbing into bed and leaning back onto her pillow. She tried to sit up and reach behind her, intending to scratch it, but something else was seeping through her body that made her limbs and eyelids too heavy to control. The drowsiness overcame her before she could muster up the energy to fight it.

She was woken by a sudden jolt. The sunlight streaming through the window had faded away, she was lying on her back in a pool of sweat and a white-hot fire was spreading through her bones. Her body was pinned to the mattress, as though something was trying to pull her through it to the floor. She tried to scream, but the flames were licking her throat into submission. They seemed to grow stronger with each second, intent on reducing her to ashes from the inside out. The only part of her that could move were the tears that slowly slid down her face.

_You're not going to die._

In the corner of her eye, she could see the glass vial lying on her bedside table. Had she taken it out of her dresser before she'd gone to bed? She could hardly remember. It was glowing now, and the tiny sphere of light inside was darting around.

_I know how it feels,_ the spirit whispered. _She used it on me. It won't kill you unless you have wicked blood in your veins. Now listen closely: you need to get out of bed. That's where they put the charm. You can get away if you put your mind to it._

The girl shut her eyes and whimpered as she strained to lift her limbs.

_I heard your parents call you Ofelia. That's a lovely name. I'd tell you mine if I could remember it. It's been so long since she put me in here. I can remember another girl, though. I think she was my friend. She was very much like you - kind and clever and brave. I think you are, too._

With a shuddering breath that made the pain in her lungs flare up, Ofelia forced all her strength into her fingers. They twitched slightly, and then clenched enough to grab the sheets.

The light in the vial glowed brighter. _Yes, that's it! Keep trying! See if you can roll out of bed._

"…Can't…"

_You have to try. Your mother and father need you._

Gritting her teeth, Ofelia pushed against the flames until she could feel her hands once again. With one she pushed against the mattress, and with the other she gripped its side and began to pull. Her body began to turn, pausing every few seconds to breathe and regain balance. Soon she could make out the shapes that were her bedroom door, the table by her bedside, the vial and the pair of glasses resting on it.

_You're almost there. Careful…_

She had maneuvered herself onto her side when the mattress suddenly dropped out from beneath her. Tumbling from her bed, she landed on the floorboards with a _thud._ At the same moment, the fire abruptly dissipated. Her unbound limbs flailed about, and the scream that had been forced back found its way out of her throat. Untangling herself from her sheets, she sprang to her feet and scrambled to find her glasses.

The spirit's light shimmered. _I knew you could do it._

Loud, heavy footsteps echoed below them. "Did you hear that? She's still alive!"

Ofelia grabbed the vial. "What do we do now?" she whispered.

_Hide. Quickly!_

She bolted towards the closet, closing the door nearly all the way and tucking herself into a corner. _Hold your breath,_ the spirit said as its light faded to a barely visible glow. _Not a sound._

The footsteps grew louder and heavier, and then the bedroom door slowly creaked open. Through the space at the bottom of the closet door, Ofelia could make out several cloaked shadows gliding towards her bed.

"Where is she?" one of them said, kicking the sheets.

"Dead, I should think."

"But we heard her screaming."

"Then we heard her scream her last."

There was more shuffling and loud thumps as they did something else to the bed. "What of the woman next door?" one of them said after a few minutes.

"That can wait. We must rejoin our lady."

The window opened and closed, and then there was nothing more to be heard.

Ofelia waited another minute before venturing from the closet. Her bed had been disassembled, its pieces strewn across the room. In the center of where the bedframe had been, a mark in the shape of a triangle had been burned into the floor.

_We still aren't safe here,_ the spirit said. _You need to find someone who can help us._

* * *

Ixa opened the front door cautiously. "Maria?" she called out, creeping over the threshold with Vicente and Gabriela behind her. "Are you back yet…?"

"Aunt Ixa!" Ofelia stood on the stair landing above the parlor, trembling and sweaty and clutching something in her hand. Shooting down the last flight of steps, she ran past the visitors and into the street. "Come on!"

"Where's your - "

"We need to get to the church!" She ran off down the street without waiting for an answer, and her friends ran after her.

"Joaquin's already up there," Ixa said, trying to keep up with the children. "What's wrong?"

"Mama and Papa. They need my help."


	13. Chapter 13

The church had never looked like this before. On most nights it was glowing and warm, framed and illuminated by the moon. Tonight, however, it was little more than a dark and ragged shape against the cloudy sky.

Joaquin bit his lip as he pulled at the front door handles. Locked tight. “Hello?” he called out, taking a few steps back and looking up. “Anyone still up?”

He thought he saw a light burning in one of the east windows for a moment, but it quickly vanished. _Isn’t there a door on that side?_

It was locked as well, but smaller and slighter than the front doors. “Sorry about this,” Joaquin muttered as he backed up and took a running stance. Aiming his shoulder at the door, he rushed forward and threw all his weight at the wood. It gave way easily, and he nearly fell over as he stumbled inside. “Manny! Maria!”

The hallway was dark and dead. Only the faint, faraway sound of something shuffling about answered Joaquin’s call. He began to walk forward and turned the corner, drawing one of his swords as he did so. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor - or was that another set? - and he thought he could catch the smell of blood as he neared the stairs to the attic. “Guys…?”

Something grabbed him by the shoulder. He screamed as he whirled around, but it died in his throat when he saw the near-specter standing in front of him. _“Maria!?”_

There was blood in her loose, tangled hair and even more on her ripped clothes and blanched skin. It was all coming from her right hand, which had been crushed almost beyond recognition and was wrapped in several now-stained scraps of cloth. Her eyes were bloodshot and wider than he’d ever seen them, and she was gripping a knife in the hand she still had use of.

Maria placed the cold metal against his lips before he could say another word. “Go back to my house,” she whispered. “Go find Ofelia.”

“You’re hurt…”

“I’m not going to tell you again.”

For a moment, Joaquin considered carrying her to safety whether she wanted it or not. She must have been able to see it in his eyes, because she gripped her knife even tighter. _“Go,”_ she hissed.

“What do you still need to do?”

She brushed past him without another glance. “Find Manolo.”

“Let me help - “

But she was already gone.

He sighed. _Only one way you can help now, buddy._

* * *

Valeria’s rooms had been stripped of their previous clutter. The shelves were almost bare, and the piles of books had been removed. Even most of the furniture was gone. Only the desk in the back remained, along with a few crates and papers.

Maria paid no mind to them at first. “Manolo!” she shouted, searching every room and pounding on the walls. _“Manolo!”_ She leaned against one of the shelves, fighting back tears. They had to be keeping him _somewhere_ up here, weren’t they?

Her feverish gaze fell on the desk, which was still covered in papers. _Maybe they left something about him there._

Stumbling forward, she began to sift through the piles. “Come on, come on…”

Something slipped off the desk and fluttered to the floor. A long, narrow scroll covered in red markings. _I remember that,_ Maria thought. _What did she call it yesterday? Personal?_ Picking it up, she sat down and began to pore over the words. The red ink had bled deep into the paper, but it was still recognizably a list of names. There must have been dozens, all wildly different and all crossed out with red. Lambert Fenn, Zita Walentowicz, Karina Dobrev, Hiraku Miyamoto, Angelina Mendoza…

Maria’s blood froze in her veins. “Angelina?”

* * *

_“Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever…”_

_The hoarse whisper roused Maria from her uneasy sleep. “Not so loud, **amiga,”** she said, closing the book which had been resting on her lap. “The nuns might hear.”_

_The girl lying in bed, little more than a corpse now, paused in the middle of her prayer. Her frame was gaunt, her skin ashen, her brown eyes dull, her blonde hair thin and stringy. “What else can they do?” she said with a smirk. “I’m already dying, aren’t I?”_

_“Please don’t say that.”_

_The two sixteen-year-olds were quiet for another minute. “I know what you’re scared of,” Angelina finally said, sitting up._

_Maria sighed, and a small sob came with it._

_“Don’t cry,” the other girl said. “We’ll meet again someday.”_

_“You don’t know that.”_

_“No one really does. But we can hope, can’t we?”_

_“It…” Maria shook her head. “It shouldn’t be like this. I should have done more for you.”_

_“You did all you could,” Angelina answered. “And you can help me finish the Shema. I know it’s meant to be said with family, but - “_

_“Of course.”_

_They bowed their heads. “Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever.  Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever. God is the Lord,” they whispered after that, seven times. “The Lord is King, the Lord was King, the Lord will be King forever and ever.”_

_Angelina’s smile remained on her face as she closed her eyes. The rise and fall of her chest slowed, and a few minutes later it had stopped altogether._

_“Angelina?” Maria asked, trembling. **“Amiga?”**_

_No answer. She placed an ear to the girl’s chest and felt her wrist - nothing._

_“Maria.”_

_She turned and stood. Valeria was in the doorway, a small glass vial in her folded hands as she observed the scene. “S-She won’t wake up…”_

_The old woman’s face was stone. “You know better than to think she will.”_

_She held out her arms. Staggering into them, Maria buried her face in her dress and sobbed._

_Valeria sighed as she stroked the girl’s hair. “I think you should go. There are matters here I must attend to.”_

_Maria slipped away, still weeping. By the time she was able to return, Angelina’s body had vanished._

* * *

There was one more name on the list, crossed out like the others. Manolo Sanchez.

“Put that down, girl.”

Maria gripped her knife as she looked up, her eyes burning with hatred. “You killed them.”

Valeria cocked the pistol in her hand and aimed it. “We mustn’t make this harder to finish than it’s already been.”

_“You killed them.”_

“They had to be punished for their transgressions.”

“All they ever did was live.”

Valeria walked towards her. “Taking it out on me won’t bring them back.”

“But I can keep you from hurting anyone else.”

“The only people you’ll hurt are those who don’t deserve it, Maria.”

“You’ve done that already.”

Valeria’s solemn visage was beginning to crack. “You’re not thinking clearly, child, you don’t know what you want - “

“You can’t tell me what I want anymore.”

“…Then I’m very sorry it came down to this.”

Maria rushed at her with the knife. Valeria grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, pinning the younger woman against her body with one arm. The knife clattered to the floor as she pushed the gun barrel against the side of Maria’s head and placed a finger on the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the room - but not from the gun. The attic door had slammed open, and then a large figure was hurling himself towards the women. “Get away from her!” Joaquin yelled as he and Ixa pulled Valeria away from their friend and tried to pin her to the ground.

Ofelia ran in after them, Vicente and Gabriela at her side. “Papa!” she shouted, searching through the remaining bottles on the shelves.

_He’s in the box by the window,_ they whispered to her. _In a black bottle._

Avoiding the now-fighting adults, she ran across the room and pried open the crate’s loose lid. A wine bottle made of black glass lay inside, nestled amidst straw. A faint light shimmered inside, flying about, and a familiar voice full of hope and fear whispered in her head. _Mija…?_

“It’s alright, Papa,” she said, picking up the bottle and holding it close. “You’re safe now.”

_“Don’t you dare!”_ Valeria shrieked, flailing out of the Mondragons’ grasp. Retrieving the pistol, she pointed it at the girl and pulled the trigger.

Maria shot forward at the same moment, grabbing Valeria by the hair and jerking her back. The barrel tipped up just as the bullet flew out. Whizzing above its intended target, it shattered one of the vials on the shelf.

Everyone froze at the sound, and then at the sight which followed it. A pale gray mist rose up from the glass shards, swirling about and forming a humanoid shape. Its face was gaunt and skeletal, its eye sockets empty. It looked around the room, and when it saw Valeria, it screamed with rage and flew at her, wrapping its long hands around her throat.

_“Run!”_ Maria shouted, pushing the other towards the door. They fled the room as one, the screams of the spirit and its captor following them out into the night.

* * *

Ofelia’s knuckles were white as she gripped the bottle, even once they were all inside Casa de Mondragon. “You guys probably shouldn’t go home just yet,” Joaquin said. “Where’s Manolo?”

At the mention of his name, Maria’s adrenaline seemed to drain away in an instant. She sank into a chair, her head slumping into her hands as she began to cry. “He’s…she…”

“Papa’s okay!”

They all looked up at Ofelia, who was holding up the bottle. “Where did you get that?” Maria asked, her face growing pale.

“It was in the attic - “

“We have to get rid of it.”

“No! Papa’s in here!”

“Papa’s gone, Ofelia.”

_You have to let him out now,_ the spirit whispered from the vial in her pocket. _Or else he’ll wither away and become one of us, and you’ll never get him back._

“I can show you,” she said, backing away from the others as she pulled at the cork. “Watch.”

“Don’t!” the adults shouted, running towards her.

They weren’t quick enough. Pulling the cork free, Ofelia dropped the bottle on the floor and watched its contents spill out.

It wasn’t a mist, like back in the attic. Instead it was a watery black liquid that quickly flowed from its prison, forming a pool before starting to congeal and bunch into a distinctly humanoid shape. It grew in size, then suddenly gave off a flash of light as it turned to flesh and hair and cloth.

Manolo cried out and gasped for breath as he lay trembling on the floor. Opening his eyes, he stared in wonder at his reformed hands and quickly looked up. His gaze landed on Maria and rested there only a moment before he scrambled to his feet, threw himself at her and held her like she was all he had left in the world.

Everyone stared at him, gaping. Everyone except Ofelia, who hung her head and ran from the room.


	14. Chapter 14

His lips were soft and warm on her fingers. Already it seemed as though they had been separated far too long.

Maria was tucked beneath Manolo’s arm as they sat leaning against the wall of the Mondragon parlor. He had said barely more than a few words to any of them, but instead held her injured hand in both of his and gently kissed it. “It’s not that bad,” she murmured. At least not bad enough to deserve his affection.

Joaquin set the broken bones and wrapped the whole hand in gauze. “It could take a month to heal,” he said. “Maybe longer. Make sure she doesn’t use it,” he added, turning to Manolo. “It’s been through a lot already.”

“…Will she be able to paint again?” His voice was weak with disuse, almost less than a whisper.

“I…I don’t know.” Standing up, he slowly walked away.

“Silly thing to worry about,” Maria said when they were alone.

“Not for you.” He paused a moment, then pulled her even closer. “I saw it,” he whispered brokenly. “I was there.”

Maria held her breath. “What…what was it like?”

“…It’s dark. You can’t move at all - there’s nothing for you to move. All you can do is watch, and you can’t stop.”

_You should have listened to me,_ she waited for him to say. _You were stubborn again, and now look what you’ve done._

“…I never should have left you two alone…”

She leaned up and kissed him, wiping away his tears. “You wanted to protect us. And we’re safe now. We’re with you.”

He sigh in relief as he stared back at her, and there was nothing in his eyes but his pure heart.

There was a clatter, and Ixa hurried into the room while repeatedly glancing behind her. “We found her!”

Joaquin looked up from the window. “Where was she?”

“Hiding in a wardrobe.” She turned around and gestured. “Come along.”

Ofelia took a few steps forward and paused in the doorway, looking smaller than usual. Her eyes were red and puffy from tears, and when she caught sight of her parents, she stiffened as though preparing to run once more.

Manolo, on the other hand, relaxed for the first time as he looked up and saw her. “Don’t go. Please.”

She approached him slowly, still trembling. Joaquin and Ixa exchanged a glance before slipping out of the room.

Holding out his free arm, Manolo smiled weakly. “Hey, _princesa._ Guess you’re better at saving me than the other way around.”

Ofelia sank into his lap, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in his shirt as she sniffled. Her father hugged her back, running his hands through her hair.

“I don’t get it, though,” Maria said. “How did she know that would work? How did she know where that bottle was?”

“Because she could hear me,” Manolo answered. “Couldn’t you, _mija?”_

The girl reluctantly nodded. “They told me.”

“They?”

“The other people. In the bottles.” She reached into her pocket and took out the vial with its shimmering light. “Like this one.”

Maria grabbed it. “They got you to hear them?”

Ofelia shook her head as she stood up. “…I already could.”

Her parents stared at her, confusion and concern plain on their faces. “What do you mean?” Maria asked, her words stilted and her tone wary.

Ofelia bit her lip and shifted her gaze downwards.

Reaching out, Manolo gently took her by the hand. “I think I know what you mean.”

She took a breath and looked up at them. “I…I can see them when they come back. _Abuelo_ and _abuela_ and everyone else. And I can hear them and talk to them, too. It’s always been like that. And sometimes I see the gods you told me about, Papa. They watch us.”

Maria stared at her with wide eyes, a hand over her mouth. Manolo didn’t move a muscle, his gaze fixed on his daughter as he listened intently. It was as though some fragile, ethereal being had suddenly appeared to bless him with her presence, and he didn’t dare risk frightening her away. Finally he spoke. “Does…anyone else know about this?”

“Just Vin and Bry.”

“Why didn’t you tell us until now?”

Ofelia began to tremble again as she slowly backed away. “Because you thought there was nothing wrong with me, and - “

She yelped as her father suddenly pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly. “Because there isn’t,” Manolo whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ve always known that and I always will. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“You don’t think it’s bad?”

“Do you wish you didn’t have it anymore?”

“…No.”

“Then what’s so bad about having a gift?”

Ofelia tried to wipe away her tears, only for fresh ones to form. “I thought it meant I was a…” the last word lodged in her throat, too horrible to be uttered.

Maria helped dry her eyes, resting a hand on her birthmark. “I know who you are,” she said. “You’re our little girl, and you’ve been very brave tonight.”

Ofelia hugged her. Manolo put his arms around them both, and Maria melted into both embraces. _It’s finally over…_

Then the shrieks of a frightened crowd began to leak in from outside.

Manolo looked up. “What’s that?”

“Guys? _Guys!”_ Joaquin came running into the parlor, his face pale as he panted heavily. “You need to come see this.”

* * *

Ixa and the twins were upstairs by a window, peering through the curtains. “Is something wrong?” Maria asked her as she and the others ran to join them.

“Look!”

Outside, the townspeople were screaming as they fled from their houses, running towards the center of San Angel. Many of them were pointing towards the edge of the island, out at the lake.

Maria’s gaze traveled up, following their outstretched fingers. When she saw what they were seeing, her face went pale. “Oh, God…”

A wall of fire was flaring up from the surface of the water and spreading out in a ring, blocking the town off from the mainland.

“No one gets out,” Manolo whispered, his eyes widening with realization. “Not until she finds us.”


	15. Chapter 15

 

“Everyone _stop!”_

The roar of the crowd in the town square softened to scatters of frightened babble as the arriving figure made his presence known. The sound of hoofbeats on cobblestone quickly cleared a path, and everyone watched as the familiar sight of Joaquin and Plata came galloping into their midst.

The soldier halted in front of his father’s statue, but did not dismount. He had donned all his regalia: jacket, cape, even his _sombrero._ Both his swords were strapped to his back, his bandoliers were full, a pistol hung from his belt and he wore an eyepatch with a silver circle stitched into the leather. He still made for an impressive picture, even as his remaining eye glinted and darted with fear.

“Everyone.” He cleared his throat as he tried to think of what Maria would say, even though the chance that her words would be heeded in this particular case were rapidly dwindling. “I know you’re all frightened, but that’s exactly what whoever did this wants. I’ve seen this sort of thing before - it’s just oil poured on water and lit up. Nothing more than an old bandit trick.”

“Is it?”

Joaquin stiffened as the crowd slowly parted to admit another newcomer. Valeria looked as though she had aged twenty years in less than an hour: her hair had turned completely white, and she was balancing on a cane clutched in one shaking hand. Her assistants walked behind her, carrying a long wooden box still streaked with dirt.

“I have seen this before as well,” she said, observing the crowd. “It is the work of a demon.”

Another wave of feverish whispers swept through the townsfolk. “Prove it!” someone shouted.

“You have one among you at this very moment,” she said. “The one which calls itself Manolo Sanchez.”

“That’s nonsense!” a woman yelled, and a number of people murmured in agreement. “Since when has that man ever hurt one of us? You have no proof!”

“Mondragon would know!” one of the shopkeepers declared. “He’s been seen with them!”

Valeria fixed her sharp eyes on Joaquin. “Well?”

Joaquin’s gaze flew around the sea of faces. “They…”

No. He couldn’t follow his friends’ instructions, not yet. “…They pose no threat to us.”

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” General Posada shouted, motioning for his soldiers to start herding people towards the fringes of the square. “All civilians must return to their homes at once. My men and I shall take care of the obstruction.”

Valeria turned and nodded to her assistants, who dragged the box into the center of the square. “So you wish for proof of what Manolo Sanchez truly is,” she said. “Then look upon him for yourselves!”

Opening the coffin, her assistants dumped its contents onto the cobblestones for all to see.

The people of San Angel screamed and recoiled at what appeared: the graying and rotting skin, the exposed bones, the frayed blue suit, the stony face which was still undeniably that of Manolo. A number of people fainted. Joaquin turned pale and looked away as he fought to keep his own cries of horror inside his throat.

Valeria was unmoved. “You have all been deceived by this creature residing amongst you,” she declared, “and now you shall pay a dreadful price unless you follow my commands.”

“Yes!” many shouted. “Let’s get that thing before it gets us!”

“This is a trick!” others shouted back. “Manolo’s alive!”

The crowd in the square was beginning to split in two: half gathered around Valeria, while the other half drifted towards Joaquin.

“I can capture it once and for all,” Valeria continued. “You need only help me track it down.”

“Search every house!” one of her assistants commanded. “Tear it to pieces if you must!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” General Posada shouted at him.

“Then are we to let this unholy creature destroy us?”

Half the crowd scream out their agreement and surged forward, threatening to spill out into the streets. The other half bolstered itself, prepared to push against them.

_I gotta stop this._ Flicking Plata’s reins, Joaquin galloped into the center of the confusion. “I know where they are!”

The people fell silent, tensing up as they stared at him.

“I’ve been speaking with them,” he continued before anyone could speak up, “and they have a message for Señora Santillian.” He glared at the old woman. “Come to my house at sunrise. Wait outside. If you give them what they want…” He paused, hating the sound of his own words. “They’ll return the favor.”

His work done, he galloped away without another word.

* * *

When he returned home, he found himself unable to look his wife in the eye. “I said what they told me to.”

Ixa nodded. “They’re still talking.”

He crept upstairs and down the hall, towards one of the spare bedrooms. The door stood ajar, and he peered inside before knocking. Ofelia lay tucked beneath the sheets, squirming as she pretended to sleep. At the foot of the bed sat her parents, their hands clasped as they whispered to one another.

Maria was hanging her head. “I know, but you tried to tell me and - “

Manolo gently placed a hand under her chin and lifted it up. “Did you mean well? Did you do the best you could?”

“I-I tried…”

“Then you haven’t failed us.”

“If this doesn’t work - “

“It will.” He kissed her, then rested his forehead on hers. “I trust you.”

Joaquin cleared his throat, causing them to look up. “Did you talk to her?” Maria asked.

“Yeah. They…they’ll be here, I guess.”

Maria took a few shuddering breaths. “Good. Good…”

The next few hours seemed to fly by. The four adults sat together in the parlor, saying little as they watched the world outside through the slightly parted curtains. The grandfather clock struck midnight, then one, and so on. The chimes sounded harsher each time. When six came around, the sky was beginning to grow lighter and murmuring voices could be heard from outside.

Manolo slowly stood up, helping Maria to her feet as well. “Can we ask something of you?” he said, looking at Joaquin.

“Of course.”

“If we don’t come back…” He paused, trying to keep himself under control.

Maria wrapped her arms around one of his. “Will you take care of Ofelia for us? Make sure she’s safe?”

Joaquin and Ixa nodded.

“Where are you going?”

They turned. Ofelia stood in the parlor doorway, a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders as she looked up at her parents.

_“Ay, mija…”_ Approaching his daughter, Manolo knelt before her and took her hands in his. “Your mama and I love you more than anything else. That’s why we have to go out there and see Miss Valeria. We need to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

To his surprise, the girl’s face remained calm as she nodded. “Si, Papa.”

“Promise us you’ll be good for Aunt Ixa and Uncle Joaquin,” Maria said, kneeling at her husband’s side.

“And say _hola_ to everyone in the graveyard when you see them again,” Manolo added. “Tell them we’re sorry we can’t be there.”

“I will.”

Manolo hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder so she couldn’t see his tears. “If there was another way - “

“It’s alright, Papa,” she said, putting her arms around him and patting the back of his head. “I know.”

He had to force himself to let her go. When Maria had finished with her as well, they both walked towards the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused and looked back at her. “This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for me.”

Maria took his hand and squeezed it. “If I’d known,” she said quietly, “I still would have chosen you.”

She adjusted the bottle hidden inside her coat, and they stepped out into the growing daylight.


	16. Chapter 16

They expected the townsfolk to come rushing at them as soon as they appeared, weapons and crosses raised. Instead they hung back as they watched Manolo and Maria walk down the front steps and towards the iron gate keeping the crowd at bay. All of San Angel had gathered before Casa de Mondragon by now, waiting: some in fear, some in anticipation. At the front of them all stood Valeria, flanked by her assistants. With one hand she was balancing on her cane, and with the other she held a small object under her arm. She stared ahead of her, glaring at the two Sanchezes as they came closer.

Maria saw Manolo glaring back and touched his arm. “Not yet.”

They opened the gate and stepped out from its boundaries, closing it behind them, then approached Valeria.

For a moment, the old woman seemed saddened by the sight of them together. “I could still offer you salvation, Maria.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to her husband. “You can keep it.”

A wave of shocked murmurs flew through the crowd, only to fall away as Valeria raised her hand. “So,” she said, “this is the path you have chosen. Does it please you?”

“What have you got there?” Maria asked, nodding towards the object that the older woman was holding.

Valeria brought it into the open. It was a small mahogany box, the lid and sides inlaid with small jewels. “It held the relic of an old Spanish saint,” she said, “and it has been blessed by what it once carried. No wicked soul can escape it.” She glanced at Manolo. “Nor any demon.”

“At least let us say what we want first,” Manolo said.

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t,” Maria said, “you’ll never get this close to us again.”

Valeria raised an eyebrow. “You think you can hide from me.”

“I _know_ we can,” the younger woman continued. “You think you’ve got this under control? There’s a fight waiting to happen right behind you. I guarantee you half those people are ready to return whatever you do to us tenfold.”

A shout of assent rose up from the townsfolk, and an equally loud shout of anger rose up in a futile attempt to drown it out.

“Silence!” one of Valeria’s men shouted, but his voice was lost in the confusion. It took several shots from a soldier’s gun to finally quiet them all down.

The wine bottle shifted inside Maria’s coat, and Manolo put a hand around her to keep it steady. “There’s only one thing we want,” he said, keeping his eyes on Valeria.

“…And what is that?”

“Our daughter’s safety,” Maria answered. “Promise you’ll leave her alone from now on. Joaquin can raise her, and she’ll never be of harm to anyone.”

“What do you offer in return?”

“Both of us. We won’t resist, and no one will come after you for our sakes. You can do whatever you want to us, for as long as you want.”

Valeria’s assistants began readying their weapons, but they paused when she shook her head. “No…”

“Well?” Maria asked. “Do we have a deal or not?”

The old woman’s eyes darted between the two of them. “It will still be in the girl’s nature to - “

“Ofelia doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Manolo said. “That’s why we want you to leave her out of it.”

“I am well aware of what she is - “

“Are you? Do you think she asked for this? She’s never thought of hurting anyone. She likes to read and play with her friends and keep the graves in the churchyard clean. _She’s just a child.”_

“Then why do you insist that she be kept alive?”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep himself under control. “You say you want to protect what you love,” he continued. “So do I.”

The look in Valeria’s eyes was disbelieving, almost scornful. “Then you should have left her before she ever saw your face.”

Manolo shrank away from her, anger and pain raging in his face as he grasped Maria’s hand. Hesitant whispers could be heard from both sides of the crowd now.

Valeria could hear it, and it seemed to be putting her more on edge. “Very well,” she said quickly. “The girl’s life in exchange for yours.” She began to turn around, as though to walk away.

Maria stepped forward as she reached into her coat. Pulling out the wine bottle, she ripped the cork out of its mouth and held it out in front of her, pointed at Valeria.

Nothing happened. Not even a flinch.

Manolo’s expression changed from confusion to terror as Valeria looked at them askance. “What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s not working…”

“You really thought I would let someone else use it?”

The bottle slipped from Maria’s hands - she barely registered the sound of it shattering on the cobblestones as she ran towards Manolo. At the same moment, Valeria held out the box and lifted the lid.

A bronze light seemed to cover everything around them, forcing it to fade away as it swirled around them. Thunder-like rumbling filled their ears, and invisible hands lifted them off their feet

Maria flailed and kicked, trying in vain to find her lost footing. A small place in the back of her mind wondered if Ofelia was watching this. If anyone was. If anyone cared.

Manolo’s hands wrapped around her waist, then pulled her to his chest and held her tightly. Maria gripped him back, trying to memorize what his touch felt like. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.

“I forgive you.”

The thunder grew louder as the light closed in on them. Bright, searing, blinding.

Then it moved away, and they felt earth beneath their feet once again.

“No! What are you doing?” Valeria shouted. The light was circling around her and her assistants now, forming a tight cocoon. She sank to the ground, covering her ears to block out the thunder. Realization and fear flooded her face as she stared at Manolo and Maria. “No…”

In a flash of light, the cocoon imploded and vanished.

When the dust had cleared and the people could see again, Valeria and her companions were gone. Only the jeweled box remained, faintly glowing as it lay on the ground.

The townsfolk stayed frozen in place, not daring to move. Maria knelt down and picked up the box, carefully turning it around in her hand. Manolo knelt beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright…?”

She looked at him, then slowly nodded as she put the box down and wrapped her arms around him. Silent tears welled up in her eyes, then began to stream down her face.

And somehow, that was all it took for the crowd to breathe again.


	17. Chapter 17

Valeria Santillian had been nothing more than a madwoman and a witch, the people decided. The wall of fire around the island was no doubt her doing, seeing as it had vanished when she met her end. Señora Mondragon told them about the triangular charm which the old woman had placed on her, and Ofelia Sanchez showed them the burn mark on her bedroom floor (much to the horror of her parents, who immediately forbade her from setting foot in the room until they had thoroughly erased all the remains of what had occurred). An investigation of the church brought forth a weak but lucid Father Domingo, who claimed Valeria had been keeping him prisoner with a drugged brew. Maria spoke of being given something similar and recounted what had been done to her in the basement. After some coaxing, Manolo reluctantly spoke of being trapped inside the bottle: surely that was what had finally done her in, when the holy power had sensed her black heart and imprisoned her instead of its intended targets.

“Where’d your father go, Ofelia?” Maria asked, looking around the churchyard as boxes were unloaded from Valeria’s wagon.

The girl pointed towards the other side of the yard. “I saw him going to visit _abuelo_ and _abuela.”_

Manolo was sitting on the ground next to the grave, looking up at the sky. He didn’t turn his head as Maria approached, but when she sat down beside him, he relaxed and placed a hand over her own.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.

“…I’m wondering about her.”

His wife immediately bristled. “I’m not.”

“Not even a bit?”

“You weren’t exactly worried about her a few hours ago.”

“I suppose not. Still, no one deserves to be trapped like that. Not forever.”

Maria sighed. “Father Domingo says he’s going to try opening it soon. Under very controlled circumstances. Probably best if we aren’t there.”

Manolo nodded as she spoke, half-stuck in some faraway thought. “She believed in it all. Right to the end. You could see it just before she left.” He looked down at his hands. “I can’t imagine what she’s thinking now.”

“I’d still rather be married to a demon than be one of her nuns.” She looked up as her husband flinched. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you…” Manolo took a breath. “Did you ever believe her? Just for a second?”

Maria looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You really think I would have turned against you like that.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“Why would I?”

“I can understand her,” he said. “At least a bit.”

Maria touched his arm. “Manolo? Did…did you believe her?”

“No, but…” He hung his head. “I know there’s nothing about us that’s normal…”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He didn’t answer.

“Look over there,” she said, touching his face and gesturing towards the front of the churchyard. All of Valeria’s glass jars had been removed from the wagon and carefully stacked on the ground; now Ofelia was gently picking them up one by one and opening them, smiling as she whispered to the souls inside. Most of them came forth in a light gray mist that floated up into the air before fading away, finally free. Others spewed out of their prisons in dark liquid that congealed into trembling mortals who wept with joy as they struggled to regain control of their limbs.

“Look at your daughter,” Maria continued. “Would you tell her what you’ve been thinking?”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Then you shouldn’t be telling yourself that, either.”

“I just don’t want you two to get hurt because of me again…and I know she was your friend…”

“I knew her for ten years,” Maria said quietly. “I’ve loved you all my life. Nothing can get rid of that. And if you want someone to blame, blame me. I’m the one who didn’t notice when something was wrong.”

Manolo smiled. “If you weren’t stubborn, you wouldn’t be my Maria, now would you?”

She rolled her eyes and gently pushed him. “Just be careful, okay? We don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve got a pair of angels looking out for me, don’t I?”

“Oh, hush.”

Manolo laughed and stood up, helping her to her feet, and they walked back towards the wagon.

Nearly all of the jars were empty now - only the little glass vial remained. Taking it out of her pocket, Ofelia began to pull out the cork. “You’re okay,” she whispered as it opened. “You can go now.”

A stream of mist floated out of the vial, making a small cloud that began to slowly rise. It paused a moment, then formed a vaguely human shape: small and frail-looking, with long hair that flowed out behind it. The spirit opened two large eyes and looked around uneasily. _“Where am I going?”_

“Someplace wonderful,” Ofelia answered. “My papa told me about it. You’ll like it there.”

The girl smiled, then looked down at Manolo and Maria. A faint light flickered in her eyes, as though a lost memory had suddenly been found once again. _**“Gracias,** Ofelia,”_ she said. “And tell your mother I said hello.”

A cool wind swept through the churchyard, and then she was gone.

Maria smiled as she watched it all. Manolo took her by the hand, then beckoned to Ofelia. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
